Crucible Read online

  But Hadara knew it was far from over. She could smell hawk on the tervardi. And human. Something terrible had happened, but she didn’t understand what until she heard Crimsonstrike murmur, “Change-Child.”

  • • •

  By the time the group returned to k’Leysha Vale, the hertasi had already created a space next to Hadara’s nest for the Change-Child. Hadara had pried the girl’s name out of her. It was one that made all who heard look closer at her: Kitha shena Tale’sedrin.

  No one could part Kitha from Hadara’s side. After the first attempt ended in panic and Hadara flaring in protective anger, no one tried. They left the two alone with Serta lurking on the edges, waiting to be needed.

  Kitha whistled, then chirped, each sound more distressed than the last.

  :Shh, Kitha. You’re safe.:

  :Why can’t I speak? Why does everything look different? My hands have claws. What’s wrong with me?:

  Hadara was silent for a moment before she spoke. “I don’t know. I cannot sssee you. I’m blind.”

  Kitha’s mind stilled. Then she sent, :But you can speak like this and with your voice.:

  “Yesss. But, when I ssspeak mind to mind with you, I’m usssing Animal Mindssspeech.” Hadara tilted her head. Kitha did not respond. “I thought you might be terrrvardi. But, you are Sssshin’a’in. I smell hawk on you, but . . .”

  Kitha stood, her hand on Hadara’s wing. :Change-Child. What does this mean?:

  Hadara stood by her and realized how small Kitha was. Not much taller than an adolescent Kaled’a’in. “Lend me your eyesss. I will take you to one of the pools. Therrrre we may sssee what we sssee.”

  She did not need to see to guide the girl to the pool. But after moons of darkness, she was hungry for color and sight. There was the familiar mental touch that Hadara accepted. With the ease of slipping on a cuff, images blossomed in her mind. She was looking at herself. Her tawny mottled feathers, her white, sightless eyes, her yellow beak and white crest feathers. In Kitha’s eyes, she was beautiful.

  “Put your hand on my neck and look forrrward. I will sssshow you.”

  Kitha did as she was told. :Change-Child?: she prompted.

  Knowing the girl would not be put off, Hadara stepped onto the well-tended pathways, leading Kitha to one of the nearby still pools. :A Change-Child is one who has been changed by magic. If you were Shin’a’in, you are now something more. I do not know what. You may have been caught in a Change Circle.: She paused for a few long moments as they approached the pool. :Look into the pool so I may see.:

  Hadara sat as Kitha leaned over the still water and gasped the soft chirr of a bird. Reflected was a small creature: part human, part bird. She had no human hair left; instead, her head was covered in the mottled feathers of a young red-tailed hawk from brow to neck. The left side of her face from cheekbone to brow had the feathered face and golden eye of a bird. Her right half was of a lovely young woman with a green eye the Tale’sedrin were famous for. Her nose and mouth were a blend of beak and lip. From her strong chin down to her neck was human, but Hadara could see feathers peeking out over Kitha’s shoulders.

  Kitha slapped at the water with a cry of denial, then ran from the still pool. Darkness descended once more for Hadara. She contemplated what this meant for the girl, but she did not follow. She had something else to do. Raising her head, she asked, “How long have you been therrrre?”

  Calmwater stepped forward with silent steps. “Long enough to see what I needed to see.”

  “Can sssshe be healed?”

  The adept was silent for longer than Hadara liked. “No. Were the Heartstone full, it would’ve been possible to help her in some small way, but now, no. Perhaps not ever, because of the nature of the change. Our far-ranging scouts found a Change Circle. I fear the longer Kitha is like this, the harder it will be to reverse when the magic returns.”

  Hadara murred in thought. “K’Leysssha Vale . . . ?” she asked.

  “Will accept her as one of their own.” Calmwater’s voice was firm. “We are the best place for her now. We understand magic and Change-Children. If she went back to the Shin’a’in, they’d only send her here.”

  • • •

  Hadara returned to her nest and found Kitha there. She moved with slow, careful steps until she circled the Change-Child with her warm bulk. Kitha remained stiff and unyielding for thirty heartbeats. Then she turned and threw herself against Hadara’s side, wailing with hawklike cries of despair. Hadara did nothing more than let the Change-Child sob her broken heart out and hum a soothing, soft tune within her mind.

  Little by little, sobs shifted into tears and hiccups that subsided into the cuddle of the exhausted. Hadara was almost asleep when Kitha shifted and asked, :How did you become blind?:

  The question should not have startled her, but it did. Hadara shivered her feathers in memory, then smoothed them over. “It wasss an accident. It wasss my own fault.”

  :Tell me in here? With words and images?:

  :As you wish.:

  Kitha turned over and settled against Hadara’s side.

  Hadara sent her the image of long travels and new places. Of Mage Portals and floating Kaled’a’in sleds. Many gryphons flew while hertasi rode and the tervardi, dyheli, and Kaled’a’in walked. There was a rest spot in a castle ruins. Hadara frolicked among the rocks until she found a sparkling gem on the ground. She eyed it with curiosity, then turned it over with a claw. Instead of flipping over like a normal jewel, the brightest, burning light seared into Hadara’s brain. It was the last thing she’d seen until now.

  Kitha sat up. :It was a trap?:

  :A trap. An alarm. Something left over from a long time ago.:

  :They could not fix your eyes?:

  :No, Kitha. It was magic burn. There was nothing anyone could do, even when there was enough magic in the world. Now . . . :

  :Now there is no magic . . . : Kitha’s mental voice was soft with realization. :I cannot be helped.:

  Hadara covered her with a wing. “No. Not rrrright now. Not until the Hearrrtssstone is full once morrre. Even then, it isss not a sssure thing.” She could smell the salt tears coursing down Kitha’s face. “But be not afrrraid. You have a home here. The Kaled’a’in alrrready accccept you as you arrrre. You arrre ssssstill wanted. I will be herrre for you.”

  Kitha did not answer. She lay back against Hadara’s side, allowing the gryphon to shelter her.

  • • •

  :I cannot stay. I have a duty to perform.:

  Now that Kitha had had time to calm down and to think, Hadara found the young woman to be bright and stubborn in the face of everything. “But I’ve alrrready made ccccertain you had a home. I—”

  Kitha moved to Hadara’s side. :Thank you. I am so grateful. But I must complete my mission. I must. I am a courier. I have a message to return from the White Winds Mage, Quenten of Bolthaven, to give to Terek shena Tale’sedrin. This is something I cannot fail in.:

  “The Ssshin’a’in werrre evacuated during the Mage Ssstormssss. They will not be wherrrre they once werrre. Only now they rrrreturn from the Valesss to the Dhorrrisssha Plainssss.”

  :Be that as it may, I must go. A courier who cannot find her home clan is no Shin’a’in. I must do this. On my honor and the honor of my family.:

  Hadara nuzzled Kitha’s head feathers, at a loss. She did not want Kitha to leave. It was more than the fact that the girl could share her vision. She could not explain it. The fact that Kitha was insisting spoke of something more. Finally, she asked, “What arrren’t you sssssaying?”

  Kitha opened her sight once more as she opened her wounded heart. :I am not full Shin’a’in. I am half-Shin’a’in. The well-known Kerowyn is my great-aunt. Her brother, Landon, is my grandfather. I grew up in Jkatha, but the strength of my ancestors runs through my veins. My mother, though she loved my Shin’a’in
father, refused life on the Plains. I, like all my family, had the opportunity to spend summers there . . . and to choose my family when I turned fourteen. I’d chosen to be a courier, as I knew what it was to traverse the cities and to live on the Plains. This last trip . . . it was to be my proving ground.:

  :Proving ground for what?:

  :My ability to be the courier my Clan and Family needed. From the Plains to Rethwellan and back. My first solo job. It is my duty to make it back home and prove that their teaching was not in vain. No matter what I look like now.:

  Hadara felt Kitha’s determination, her hope, and the encroaching despair. She radiated warmth, love, and support. “You cannot sssspeak.”

  Kitha flexed her clawed fingers. :I can still write. I will learn the silent language.:

  “They will sssend you back herrre. The Sssshin’a’in do not deal in magic.”

  :But they will know I survived. A three-moon trip became five, but I still survived. They taught me well.: Kitha paused and leaned against Hadara. :I will need to write to my mother and let her know what happened as well. I cannot start a new life as I am until I deal with what I once was.:

  Hadara hugged Kitha close, her own heart breaking. She could not stop Kitha from fulfilling what she saw as her duty.

  • • •

  “No. Absolutely not. We cannot allow you to leave, Kitha.”

  Calmwater’s voice put Hadara on edge. She could feel Kitha’s agitation as the Change-Child sounded an annoyed cry.

  Hadara translated for the small group. “Ssshe sssayssss that you cannot keep herrr captive in the Vale. Sssshe will go with or without yourrrr perrrmisssssion.”

  “Does she not understand that—?”

  Kitha cut off Calmwater with another sharp shriek. Hadara felt her move until Kitha stood under her beak. :Translate for me?:

  :Yes. Of course.: Hadara spoke the words as Kitha fed them to her. “Do not ssspeak about me as if I am not herrrre or too sssstupid to underrrsssstand. I may not have the ability to sssspeak, but I am as able as the rrrrest of you.” Hadara clacked her beak for emphasis, imagining the fierce look on Kitha’s face.

  “Yes. Of course. I apologize.” Calmwater gazed directly at Kitha. From Hadara’s point of view, it was as if he were staring at her breast feathers. “Please understand that while we Kaled’a’in can accept you as you are now, the Tale’sedrin will not. Your family in Jkatha will not.”

  “I do not need them to accccccept me. I need them to acccccept that I completed this misssssion. What happensss then, I will deal with then. I will not borrrrrow trrrrouble.”

  Crimsonstrike spoke. “You are willing to risk your life to make a point?”

  Hadara did not speak for Kitha, and Kitha did not respond.

  “Kitha shena Tale’sedrin, as one who saved your life, you owe me an answer.”

  Hadara and Kitha winced as one. Kitha nodded as Hadara answered. “Yess. I am willing to rrrisssk mysssself to make a point. I have a duty to my Clan. Even if that Clan will no longer accccept me, theirrrr teaching was ssssound. They could not protect me from the Mage Ssstorrrmss. I will go to them with or without your perrmissssion.”

  Crimsonstrike nodded, giving Kitha a half-smile. “As stubborn as a Shin’a’in.”

  “How will you get them to listen to you before they cut you down? You have no voice.” Calmwater sounded more and more frustrated.

  “I am of the Clan of the Hawk. I am parrrrt hawk. They will wait.”

  “You are a Change-Child!”

  “Ssshe will not be alone. I will be with herrrr.” Hadara was suddenly looking at herself, at her beak from the underside. She gave Kitha an open-mouthed grin. Now that Hadara understood what she needed to do to soothe her own heart, she couldn’t contain her joy. :You need me. I need you. We can do this together. We won’t be alone.:

  :You would come with me? I’d hoped but I didn’t want to ask. You’re . . . :

  :If you say blind, I’m going to rap you on the head with my beak.:

  “You are blind! It cannot be helped. I forbid you to go!” Calmwater stood. “I will not allow you to harm yourself again—”

  Crimsonstrike put a hand on her lifemate’s arm. She gazed at the pair before her. “Perhaps there is more than one proving ground here. It has been five moons since Hadara was blinded. The same length of time as Kitha’s journey. Perhaps, the Star-Eyed has plans for these two.”

  Hadara raised her beak. “Perrrhapsss. But I cannot, and will not, allow Kitha to go alone. I may borrrrow herrr eyessss. Sssshe may borrow my voice. We are two of a kind. We complement each other.”

  Kitha whistled in approval. Then Hadara spoke for her. “Yesss. We complement each otherrr. I will be herrr eyesss. Sssshe will be my voice when therrre are those too . . . blind . . . to understand what has happened.”

  Crimsonstrike stood and leaned over to Calmwater. There was a long, silent moment when nothing could be heard except for the Vale noises around them. Then Calmwater nodded. “It seems I cannot stop you. I can, however, request that you return here should things go awry.”

  :He can request that all he wants.: Kitha mind-muttered to Hadara.

  :It will be good to prove him wrong,: the gryphon replied. :And to prove that both of us can do this, together.:

  The Highjorune Masque

  Stephanie D. Shaver

  She’d been calling herself Bree ever since she came to Highjorune eight months ago. She’d spent two of those months waiting for a Herald to rescue her.

  And in the meantime—she worked. And sang.

  Today she swept ashes. Highjorune had enough people to warrant a soapmaker, and soap needed lye, and lye needed lots of ashes. It didn’t pay well, but it let her go to many places without anyone noticing.

  And where she went, she took her songs with her.

  She walked a fine line between outing herself and being unobtrusive. Whenever she had to go to the Crown of Lineas, she made damn sure that Ferrin, the inn’s resident Bard, was nowhere to be seen when she sang. If he heard her, he’d know. And if he knew, he’d probably kill her.

  But—fine line. She needed to watch him without him knowing she watched. So she went back to the Crown, over and over, and she risked her little songs. Songs about Sendar and Selenay, songs about the good Valdemar had done. After all, if she had to cross thin ice, she might as well dance.

  “Morning, Bree,” Ystell, the Crown’s cook, said cheerfully. Her face looked as though she’d caught a battle-ax with her forehead—mainly because she had. She’d even kept the ax after dispatching the mercenary responsible and mounted it over the hearth in the Crown’s kitchen as a subtle reminder to food critics of whose food they quibbled with.

  Not that Ystell was anything but the embodiment of kindness. Bree liked only a handful of Highjoruners, and Ystell numbered on that list. Along with the soapmakers, Skarron and Derdre, and Orenn, the Crown’s hostler, plus a half-dozen others who’d been nothing but kind to her, a stranger from the outside.

  “Morning, Miss Cook,” Bree replied, answering to her assumed name without hesitation. She’d been filled with intense melancholy the first time she’d realized that she’d stopped listening for her real name. She’d written three songs off the deep sadness.

  A small body hurtled through the back door and flung itself at the cook, who carried on as if she hadn’t been ambushed by a toddler. “Suze,” she said to the child, “you need to wait for breakfast.”

  “But Miss Cook,” she replied, with perfect toddler logic, “I’m hungry now.”

  The cook’s eye twinkled, and her skillful hands moved slightly. A scrap of baked-off pie dough, glazed with honey and spices, magically appeared in Suze’s hand. The child took discreet bites, beaming at her benefactor.

  “You need to wait, wait, wait,” Bree said, putting a little song into the words, drawing Suze over to the fire
. The child had a round face, dark curls, and serious gray eyes. Her father, the inn’s newest hostler, had started working at the Crown a month ago. He was a widower, or so Bree assumed, because when she’d asked Suze where her mama was, the child had replied with perfect seriousness, “The Havens.”

  Then Suze had grabbed a handful of Bree’s ashes. Hilarity had, unfortunately, ensued.

  Today, she seemed to respect the buckets of ash, as much because her hand was sticky with honey-crust as having been told numerous times they were “no touch.”

  “How are you this morning, Suze?” she asked.

  “Hungry.” She finished the last of her pie dough and licked her fingers clean.

  “Well, I hear breakfast is soon.” Bree stood up, hauling her buckets with her. “Ystell, I’m off.”

  “Take care, love. Come back for supper, if you care. We more than owe you.”

  Bree stopped briefly to claim her cloak from the peg by the door. She kept her head down as she walked outside, past the bake-oven and the stables, passing Suze’s father, Attikas, as she went. The bearded hostler had a similar eyes-downcast way of walking, and they mumbled greetings to one another as they passed. Past him in the stables, she saw Eel the stableboy sweeping out stalls. As a nickname, Eel more than suited his clammy skin and greasy hair. It didn’t help that he clung to Ferrin like . . . well, more a leech than an eel. Either way, she liked him slightly more than Ferrin, which was to say: not at all.

  Dinner with the Lord Buffoon and his lickspittle? she thought as she turned down the street toward the soapworks. I think not.

  And then she heard it: the impossible clip-clop-chime of Companion hooves.

  She froze, clinging to her bucket handles.

  Herald, she thought. Oh, gods, finally.

  Two Companions came around the corner. One mare, one stallion.

  Two unbridled, unsaddled Companions.

  Bree’s heart sank.

  They had drawn a small crowd of children and young adults, expressing open curiosity. Bree stepped aside to let them and their entourage pass. The Companions turned into the Crown’s courtyard and approached Eel, who screamed and jumped backward, slamming up against the back of the stall he’d been sweeping.